Oblivion's Child
by iflip4dolphins
Summary: When Alaya is thrown into prison for a sentence beyond her crime, fate takes over. Suddenly, she's out, the Emperor is dead, and she's left with the Amulet of Kings and a priest who is Cyrodiil's only hope, even if he doesn't know it yet. Hero of Kvatch/Martin Septim


_**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is property of Bethesda. I own only Alaya.**_

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The problem with the dunmer's taunts was that they weren't working. Perhaps on another prisoner his words would have cut, or at the very least squirmed into the mind of the victim until they snapped, but Alaya was used to the pain that words could inflict. Instead, she ignored him with the kind of skill that took years to perfect as she idly spun the roughly hewn wooden cup the guards had allowed her to have on the table.

" – your magicka in here. Let's see those bars disappear."

Alaya spun the cup off the table. It clattered against the wall and into the corner, swallowed up by darkness. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She came up to the bars and rested her elbows on the crossbar, putting her chin on her hands. The dunmer's eyebrow rose, and her own lips twitched with sardonic amusement. Clearly he hadn't been expecting her to actually reply, much less with such composure. "I could, you know. They haven't put any restraints on me."

"And what do you call those iron bracelets?" he sneered after a moment's pause. "Jewelry?"

This time she let the smile get past the corner of her lip. "Useless."

The word hung in the air, illuminating just how much she didn't care about the shackles. For a split second, fear flashed in his eyes before he concealed his reaction and, with only a slight shake, continued to taunt. Rather than leave the door and give him the satisfaction of thinking he'd gotten to her, Alaya bit back a sigh and scuffed her toes against the stone floor, wondering if she dared spell the shackles open. Beneath the metal, her skin throbbed.

Distracted, Alaya didn't tune in to the dunmer's cackles until footsteps thudded down the stairs. "They're coming for you, Breton. You're going to _die._"

Before Alaya had the chance to mutter a sarcastic retort – or even better, something offhanded that would throw him off yet again – a hard female voice commanded, "Baurus, lock that door behind us."

Alaya frowned. The door at the top of the steps was generally locked, but never before had the guards locked themselves in with the prisoners. It was meant to be an extra safeguard. Just in case somebody escaped, the second locked door would hopefully slow them down. Considering the people who were down here, though, Alaya had her doubts that the door would do anything other than serve as an annoyance. If you could make your way out of the locked cell, the second door would prove little challenge.

Of course, considering the armed guards beyond that door, the chances of survival for an escapee were slim at best.

"My sons..." A new voice, unmistakably male, drifted off, and Alaya tried to peer out of the cell to get a better look. She failed. "They're dead, aren't they?"

"We don't know that, Sire." Firm, reassuring, but submissive. Whoever she was, she wasn't in charge. Alaya sidled closer to the shadowy figures, fingers loosely wrapped around the cold iron bars of her cell door. "The messenger only said they were attacked."

"No." There was a sigh in his response, and unless Alaya missed her mark completely, resignation. "They're dead. I know it."

"My job right now is to get you to safety," the woman replied. Armor clanked together as they approached, confirming Alaya's suspicions. Whoever they were, they weren't guards. Guards didn't wear full armor with such heavy armaments.

She expected them to continue past her cell.

She was wrong. They halted in front of her, and the woman's eyes widened with shock. Alaya simply gazed back, tilting her head quizzically, genuinely confused. "What's this prisoner doing here?" the woman demanded. "This cell is supposed to be off limits!"

"Usual mix-up with the watch. I –"

"Never mind," she snapped, cutting off her underling. "Get that gate open."

Her eyes caught Alaya's and glared into them, glinting with a ferocity that took her by surprise. "Stand back, prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

Taken aback, Alaya stepped backwards, away from the quiet intensity that promised death, her fingers slipping from the bars. As the door squeaked open and the group entered, she avoided them by backing up against the wall. Her fingers itched to twitch a hood up to conceal her hair, her face. Not for the first time she lamented the loss of her robes.

"Stay put."

Alaya huffed quietly. "Where do you expect me to go?"

_Thwack! _The back of his armored hand slammed into her cheek. Alaya staggered back into the wall, one hand going up to touch her cut cheek gingerly. She winced. Without the aid of a healing spell, it would definitely bruise, and she didn't dare risk one of those until these – whoever they were left.

"_You._"

The old man stepped forward, eyes lit with recognition. Despite not being able to step back any further, Alaya pressed herself against the wall, eyes narrowed. "What about me?" she wanted to know, jaw screaming in pain.

"Your face… it _is _you." He sighed. "The one from my dreams. So the stars are right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength."

Her denial died in her mouth and a chill shuddered up her spine. Stars she could argue with. Dreams – no, if he'd seen her in dreams, it could only mean he had at least a rudimentary sense of visionary magic. Hers wasn't exactly a common face, after all. "The day for what? What's going on?"

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next," was the immediate reply. "My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route." Even as the blade who had hit her made an alarmed noise, Alaya's eyes widened in shock. It _couldn't _be - "By chance, it happens to be located in your cell."

It could. It was. Alaya pushed herself straight, and though she still supported herself against the wall, at least she wasn't hunched over like someone afraid of getting beaten again. "Emperor Uriel Septim," she said in the driest tone she could manage. "What an honor. If you're going to escape I suggest you do it now. You don't want to be tainted by association with a criminal, do you?"

"Your crimes are meaningless," the Emperor told her, raising a hand to stop the Blade from readying another blow. "They are not what you will be remembered for."

"And what will I be remembered for?" She laughed, short and bitter. "My face may be in your dreams, Sire, but whatever you think I'll do, whoever you think I am, I can promise you this: you're wrong."

"He is the Emperor," the Blade ground out. She flashed an angry look at him.

"And emperors are infallible?" Alaya demanded. "Just as the guard is infallible, I suppose? Or any other mere mortal?"

One of the Blades stifled what might have been a snigger, covering it up with a cough. "Captain Renault –"

"I know. Sire." The Captain pushed something on the opposing wall. A stone panel scraped out of place and into the floor, sending up a dust cloud that Akaya was very glad she wasn't standing next to. "Please, Sire, we must keep moving."

The Emperor caught her eyes and held them with the commanding aura that only birth could give. His words rang with truth. "You will find your own path. Take care – there will be blood and death before the end."

"I don't suppose you have any details?" Alaya mumbled, ill-advisedly, as the Emperor turned towards the secret tunnel. Luckily, the Blade didn't do more than glare fire at her before following the Emperor with a sharp turn and a chinking of his armor.

"Better not close this one," Captain Renault called back, her voice echoing slightly. "There's no way to open it from the other side."

Alaya's eyebrows rose. The sniggering Blade grinned cheekily at her, saying, "Looks like today's your lucky day. Just stay out of our way," before he followed his companions and Emperor through the gap in the wall.

After a moment's consideration, Alaya reached inside the well of power within her, and with a single word and a glow of the myriad of markings spiraling on her skin, unlocked the shackles. They fell to the floor with a clank, just barely missing her foot. Her eyes slid to the side, where wide dunmer eyes fixated on her through two sets of bars, glinting red in the gloom.

Her lips tugged into a smirk, and with another spell, she sent the shackles flying through the bars to smash into the side of his face, the chain catching on a bar and spinning around so that the impact was lessened. The dunmer shrieked and clapped a hand to his eye, scrambling to get away from the bars.

"You really should work on your taunting," Alaya told him mildly, the revenge for the annoyance and the past two weeks of wrongful imprisonment settling nicely in her stomach.

And with that, the mage slipped through the tunnel, determined not to let this chance pass her by.


End file.
